


broken on my own

by atlaswrote



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Hallucinations, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 19:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17310554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlaswrote/pseuds/atlaswrote
Summary: alone. yes, that's the key word, the most awful word in the english tongue. murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.





	broken on my own

**Author's Note:**

> okay look, this is Not my fault.  
> TW for suicide, character death, hallucinations, suicide baiting

_alone. yes, that's the keyword, the most awful word in the english tongue. murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym - stephen king  
_

 

**one: blood**

It was red everywhere. It was the suit and the knife and the blood. The blood that was coating his hands and the floor and _and_ **_and  -_ **

 

Peter is fine. Peter is completely and utterly fine. Peter is so fine that he didn’t even cry at his funeral. Peter is doing great, he’s doing great and no one should ask any questions hinting towards the contrary.

 

**two: dark**

It shocks him had the world can go on when his seems to have ground to a halt. The world collectively moved on, going back to their lives while his crumbled around him.

 

He couldn’t move forward. It was like molasses had been poured over him while he was asleep, trapping him in this broken state. Grieving became his own personal hell, like chains had bound him, had him all strung up with nowhere to go.

 

**three: broken**

He thinks he sobs when he first hears the voice. His voice. He hadn’t heard him in weeks, his last words forever ringing in his ears.

 

And now it’s back. He’s back. And Peter shatters into a million pieces all over again.

 

**four: bright**

Peter moves. He moves and he works and he eats. He’s productive. Everyone was proud. Tony most of all. Gentle praise wafted in and out of his ears, keeping him moving when all he wanted to do was lay down and never get up again.

 

He deflects questions about who he’s talking to. He’s always been good at lying, to himself and others.

 

**three: broken**

He flinches the first time he hears those cruel words, still in Tony’s gentle cadence. Softly telling Peter how he had killed Tony, how it was all his fault.

 

It hurt because he was right, he had sat there and watched as the light drained out of his eyes.

 

He stops sleeping; he lies awake and listens. Those soft and cajoling tones ripping whatever was left of him to shreds.

 

It hurts because he deserves it.

 

**two: dark**

The lights in Peter’s room stay off. He couldn’t bear to see the empty room, didn’t want to face a reality in which Tony wasn’t actually there.

 

Dr. Banner noticed first. It was in the sideways glances, the gentle touches on his too-pale skin. It made Peter sick. The kindness was something he didn’t deserve. Tony made sure that Peter understood that vividly.

 

**one: blood**

There was blood everywhere. It was on his clothes and his floor and the knife and _and_ **_and-_ **

 

Peter vision was blurring, and he didn’t know if it was tears or blood loss. He didn’t particularly care. There was banging on the door but he didn’t care. He was being lifted and there were bright lights but he didn’t care.

 

He didn’t care because Tony was there, gentle praise and affirmations.

 

He made sure Peter knew he made the right decision.

 

**zero: twins**

Peter’s heart sluggishly pumped blood out of his body, seemingly trying to evacuate all the taint from his body. The taint that got Tony killed. Continuously pumping even though he wasn’t coherent enough to feel it.

 

Then, it stopped. And Peter was enveloped in blessed nothingness.


End file.
